


carrier pigeon, dove

by jewelsofnight



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: F/F, F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:27:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27682867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jewelsofnight/pseuds/jewelsofnight
Summary: Allison’s call goes through. Renee greets her with a warm laugh. She hasn’t laughed or talked that loudly in weeks, and now they’re both grinning and adding Jean to the call, hoping to bother him at 3AM with their wine-fueled antics.He picks up, and he’s mad for all of three seconds when he sees how dark it is outside, before the laughter of angels soothes him into bliss.“Oops, did we disturb your beauty sleep, handsome?” Allison titters. She’s talking with her mouth full, but Renee is too tipsy to scold her.“I don’t get beauty sleep,” he retorts. “I’m naturally beautiful no matter what.”/Or, the one where Allison and Renee use Jean as a carrier pigeon for kisses until they can see each other again.
Relationships: Jean Moreau/Allison Reynolds/Renee Walker
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17
Collections: AFTG Girls Week 2020





	carrier pigeon, dove

**Author's Note:**

> This is something I wrote inspired by the Girls Week prompt card, which can be found [here](https://twitter.com/aftgevents/status/1318263503631900677?s=20)
> 
> DAY 1: kiss, foreplay, darkness
> 
> (the tense got lost in the middle for some reason, but please don't pay attention to that temporary shift in tense lol I will edit later)

Allison huffs at the pathetic vision of a tall man slouching on her porch. The porch light was still on, but she had been sitting on the plush stool at her vanity, counting down the few minutes left till she turned it off. So her temper was short, even after all these years. Still, nobody could say she wasn’t precise or clear about her expectations. Learned lessons.

Her age-earned grace keeps her from stomping as she goes down the stairs to open the door.

“What time is it?” she demands as soon as she opens it. 

Jean’s face falls, and then he winces. Regret, despite his past with the Ravens, is actually a new look on him. He’s not sure yet how to hide it or lie about it, but Allison doesn’t pay it more than a contemptuous glance.

“Later than I should be here,” he says, voice warm and deep. 

Her eyes slide shut. It’s a nice sound when it’s not coming from a phone.

“Don’t try to get on my good side now, it’s futile,” she scoffs, dragging him in from the cold by his arm. 

He’s still hunched as he follows her but he’s starting to toe the edge of annoyed, like he’s waiting for it to be over. He’s like that – two sided, both a kicked kitten and an arrogant bastard, hard bodied and doe-eyed in her kitchen at 11:53PM. More than 30 minutes late.

Jean let himself be pushed onto a plush, lavender armchair, kissing one of her elegant hands as they lingered a second too long on his shoulders. She dug her nails in, and the next second she was out of his space with only a hint of her perfume left.

It wasn’t his fault he’d been late. The traffic, the snow, the cab driver with the bad ear, they’d all contributed to his untimely arrival and now his girlfriend’s bad mood. She’d forgive him, he knew, because leaving with an argument still struck fear into Allison’s heart, even years after Seth. Jean had that to blame on Riko too. She was the same woman who had wiped her tears and gotten back on court to play just one week after her ex boyfriend’s death, so his protectiveness wasn’t needed, but their collective anger at one monster wouldn’t leave for a long time. Or ever. With that thought, Jean settled further into the armchair.

It was small. Comfortable, but for a man of his stature, too small. It was probably deliberate, because making furniture too small for most men to comfortably sit on seemed like something Allison would do. Her streak of pettiness knew no bounds and even left Jean winded. Renee was probably the only person in the world with the amount of patience required to deal with it.

“Here,” Allison interrupted. She shoved a warm mug of chamomile tea at him.

“Thanks, dear,” he said, brushing her fingers as he took it from her.

She flopped onto the sofa near him, arms still crossed. She looked sleepy and sad, overworked and stressing about things she wouldn’t tell them. He sipped his tea, content to let silence float between them. The single lamp lighting the living room was enough to illuminate her décolletage from where her robe had shifted, and she looked achingly beautiful. He wanted to reach out and touch, but the fire behind her eyes hadn’t receded.

Placing the cup down soundlessly, he put his hands on his thighs and looked around. He was still hunched, slightly crumpled and tentative like he hadn’t yet relaxed. It was a far cry from the arrogant bravado that had kept his chin high in the Nest for years. He made to get up.

“Stop,” Allison said, kicking a leg out, bare toes pressed against the edge of the coffee table. Her nails were painted a soft purple.

She finally turned to look at him, icy shards of blue in her eyes, and he shivered despite the warmth of the room. Her hand reached out, robe coming even looser with it, and for a minute Jean was stunned. She looked beautiful as she always had, like she’d been hand-crafted by an angel.

“Come here. I have a message you need to give Renee.”

His breath didn’t return to him till she kissed it into his mouth. The next morning, she left him at the terminal with the briefest kiss and a whispered “don’t forget” in his ear.

* * *

Wisconsin was wet and cold when it greeted him two weeks later. He groaned in bed, body feeling like liquid. Renee’s weighted blanket and jasmine-scented sheets were like anchors on his mind, pulling him deep into slumber and never letting him get up. He wondered how long he could stay here before the outside world caught up.

The door creaked open gently, and he heard a light whooshing sound before a wet nose touched his hand on the edge of the bed. He cracked an eye open. Juniper stared back.

Juniper was Renee’s golden, very gentle and playful and also deaf. She was just as cute, competent, and polite as her owner, which is why she waited till at least 10AM before coming to disturb Jean.

He groaned and rubbed his eyes, then got up. He gave the dog a few head scratches and rubs before wandering into the kitchen, where Renee was sitting at the little round table. A few pens and colourful markers were scattered on the round wooden table, along with an abandoned newspaper open on the crossword, a cup of coffee, and an open art journal.

“You look ridiculous,” he mumbled, leaning down to kiss her cheek before sitting across from her.

She smiled, looking cute and fluffy with a wild bedhead and huge, soft orange robe draped over her shoulders. She was resting her chin on a knee that she had pulled up on the chair, while she lazily sketched what looked like Allison’s rooftop garden.

“Chia pudding in the fridge,” she said. “I gave Juniper your eggs because they got cold, sorry. You were sleeping so soundly, I couldn’t wake you.”

Jean snorted, then got up to forage for the food. He figured he would eat, humanise himself in the bathroom, then get on video call with Alli before he and Renee did whatever. Maybe a repeat of last night, he thought, warmth suffusing his body at the faint thought of it. It hadn’t been particularly long lasting or exceptional, considering they were both exhausted and simply running on the post-adrenaline rush of a game, but it had been sweet. He’d gotten Allison’s message to Renee loud and clear.

“Mmm,” he said. “It’s good.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” she teased.

He rolled his eyes. By the time he came out of the bathroom, freshened up and dressed, the light outside had dimmed even further, washing the colours out of the apartment. He found Renee curled up on the sofa with Juniper on the rug. She yawned, and then lifted the blanket for him to squeeze into with her. He wrapped a huge arm around her and let his fingers trail up and down her biceps and her neck, feeling the strong muscles relax.

Renee rested her head against his chest, listening to his heart beat. She closed her eyes, running her hand soothingly up and down his sternum.

“When you see her again,” she said slowly and firmly, “Tell Allison this is for her.”

Because Jean’s team would be playing against Philly sooner than Renee’s team would. He knew the video calls and promises were not enough to dam up the loneliness and yearning that threatened to flow. So he took the kisses between them, a little game that meant a lot more than any of them could admit. They kissed, and said everything without words.

I love you. I miss you.  _ Be patient. _

* * *

Allison’s call goes through. Renee greets her with a warm laugh. She hasn’t laughed or talked that loudly in weeks, and now they’re both grinning and adding Jean to the call, hoping to bother him at 3AM with their wine-fueled antics. 

He picks up, and he’s mad for all of three seconds when he sees how dark it is outside, before the laughter of angels soothes him into bliss. 

“Oops, did we disturb your beauty sleep, handsome?” Allison titters. She’s talking with her mouth full, but Renee is too tipsy to scold her.

“I don’t get  _ beauty sleep _ ,” he retorts. “I’m naturally beautiful no matter what.”

Allison shrieks with laughter at that, the sound going distant as she’s probably rolling around on the floor somewhere. Jean distantly hopes it’s not her bedroom rug, because wine stains are a bitch to remove. 

“Oh, Frenchy, how I love you. Mwah,” Allison says.

They lose track of what was said after that. Each of them wake up on a sluggish Sunday sometime around mid-morning with the realisation that the call is still going and their phones are half dead.

* * *

“Fuck,” Allison gasps. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

It was a bit scandalous. Jean thought he’d left those days behind after he left the Nest and the flocks of hungry collegiate Exy reporters, but he should’ve known the paparazzi would never leave them alone. How they’d love it, if they knew. The banished heiress, a perfect court member, and the ex-gang member turned good Samaritan all in a secret couple. Throuple. Whatever hideous term Jeremy called it.

“This banquet sucks,” she whined, pushing him against the wall. It’s a staff bathroom for single use and the door was locked, but someone would notice their absence at some point.

Her hands on his chest were driving him insane. It didn’t help that she’d almost closed the gap between their heights with her heels, and was now having extra fun pressing a leg up to grind against his crotch. She reached up, capturing his mouth in another hot kiss. His heartbeat was going haywire and his breath stuttered, but so did hers.

Suddenly, Allison had a phone out. It was a bit reckless, but she’d paid for the top cyber security consulting, so he placed his trust in her money and extinguished the worry the second it started.

“I want you to show her,” she said, panting against his lips. “Show her what I’m doing to you, and tell her what we’d both do to her.”

Allison moaned, grinding her own hips down now. His fingers rubbed the skin of her thighs and then went traversing up her ass, up her spine, to her shoulders where he rubbed soothingly. It pulled a ragged noise from her throat, barely stifled. 

“Show me what you want to give her,” Jean said, taking the phone. He angled the camera so it could get both of them against the wall, making out in the bathroom like two horny teenagers. Like two people desperately missing another.

She kissed him, again, hard like she could press inside of him. Her fingers cupped his face, some strands of his long hair falling out and brushing her knuckles.

“This banquet really fucking sucks,” she said, and this time she couldn’t keep the sadness out. She tried to regain control of her breathing as she said it.

Their self-control was in tatters. It made Allison angry, angry that it always had to be just two of them at one time, angry that the game against Milwaukee wasn’t for another few weeks when  _ finally _ she would see Renee. They looked crazy, in the mirror, but fixing it was easy. Allison was on autopilot as she fixed her makeup and watched Jean adjust himself too. 

Before they left the bathroom, Jean cupped her face, much gentler than she had held his earlier.

He placed a kiss on her lips and whispered softly. “Soon.”

Allison put her hand over his, eyes down, then walked out before him.

* * *

The game was over. Allison’s team, the Philadelphia Panthers, had lost against the Milwaukee Mallards. Renee had protected the goal beautifully, and Allison was fucking tired of being the backbone of offense on her own team. She dreamt wistfully of a contract change, but for now she pushed that aside to jump into her girlfriend’s long-waiting arms.

“Oh my god!” she shouted. “Thank fuck. We need to get out of here, come on, come on – fucking seriously.”

She was grabbing and pulling at Renee, ignoring the commentators making remarks about ‘reunited former teammates’.

“Not today,” she said, barrelling past vice-captain Myers who looked like he was going to say something. Her captain, Sasha Penrose, had let her off the hook tonight, so no press duty. No nothing. Her team wouldn’t be making semi-finals, but Renee would, and Allison had time tonight. They were going to fucking celebrate.

But first – 

“Flight MS0732, prepare for boarding.”

She clenched Renee’s hand in hers, pulling her along the queue. The night was clear outside over Philly, and in a matter of hours they would be in Boston, with Jean ready to take them both home. The excitement was pouring off her with the adrenaline.

Later, when the lights went down in the airplane as they were well on their course to Boston, she smiled and leaned over, planting a soft kiss on Renee’s lips. Then she settled on her shoulder, dreaming of a tall man and a girl with rainbow hair and a warm bed with space for them all.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you! find me on twitter @knightspacejam


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